His Raven, Her Wolf
by 14ismyluckynumber
Summary: She intrigued him. Like a moth to a flame. Like prey, prey to a hunter. Maybe, just maybe this is the love that will blossom, the love that will blind the darkness of the arena. Maybe this is the love that will win.
1. Chapter 1

District Two.

7:14 AM,

May 19th

Bells pealed out over the courtyard, long and mournful, sultry as a widow's wail. The sky was bleak, thin wisps of grey and white, an expanse of emptiness, as people scurried past underneath, going about preparations.

In one of the tall houses that bordered the courtyard, the type of house grandeur seemed to spill out of like ink, a maid was rapidly carrying a silver platter, delicately laced paper covering it, as if the shining metal alone was enough to offend a person's eyes. On that platter, and the paper, sat a small, pastel pink pot of steaming rosebud tea, an equally pink cup and saucer, and a small spoon, with the initials CS engraved to the highest precision on the handle.

"Miss Shadow? I have your tea here, same as every morning."

She knocked on a fine wooden door, highly polished with only a hint of tasteful grain, glancing around fearfully. All that met her searching eyes was rich red carpet and fine honey wood walls, but her breathing did not slow until the golden doorknob to the room was twisted open, and the entryway was pulled back.

"Come in, Gliespe."

The woman, aged and with a face that showed her problems, scooted in, the door being flung shut behind her. Placing the platter on a polished dark wood chest of drawers, she straightened her crisp white apron, pulling the dark cuffs of her plain black dress down from where they had ridden up her forearm.

"Rosebud, how are you doing? I brought your special tea."

She placed a soft and wrinkled hand on the shoulder of the teenaged girl in front of her, who smiled the kind of smile that spoke her lack of happiness in the everyday.

"Good morning Gliespe. How are you today? How's the family? Baby Fisper still giving your daughter trouble with the colic?"

"They are all fine, Clove dear, but they are not who I am concerned for, not yet. It is Reaping Day, rosebud."

Clove just responded with a simple nod, dark curls shaking.

Clove Wren Shadow, or "Rosebud" to her dear childhood maid, Gliespe, was fifteen years old, and had been so since last December, and today was the day she was planning on asking to go to the place where she was probably going to meet her death.

A victorian beauty, she had skin the colour of the liquid inside the milk bottles that had recently been swept in from her front doorstep, unmarked bar a smattering of light freckles on her defined-but not too sharp-cheekbones. Her hair was a river of dark brown ringlets that tumbled down past her shoulders to stop by the end of her ribcage. She had a full fringe, that hung to her eyebrows, that lay above her enchanting eyes. They were rimmed with thick, full black lashes, and had irises that were the colour of pine needles, dark forest green with spectrum interludes of lighter, more grass like colours and a hint of thin, vein purple. She had soft, plump lips, dark crimson naturally, as if they were constantly stained with blood. She was a rare porcelain beauty, but she nor her parents saw it that way.

"Don't you worry, Rosebud, we will make you look perfect. Now sit down at the dresser, have some tea."

Clove did as she was told and poured herself some of the whisper green tea, bringing the cup up to her lips, legs crossed at the ankles and back straight, like her etiquette teacher had taught her.

The dresser was perfectly antique and vintage. With four curved legs leading to a solid rectangle with three drawers (all accessed by ornate sliver handles), which led up to a wooden framed, large, oval mirror, that was polished daily by the Shadows' army of maids until it shone. It was relatively free of clutter, only a small white vase containing a sugar coloured rose and a crystal cut bottle of perfume took up the wooden surface.

Opening one of the drawers, Gliespe gently took out a pristine silver hairbrush, perfectly preserved from the olden days. It had soft bristles and glimmered, although dark and rusted in some places, with it's engraved roses. Gliespe began to softly run it through Clove's ringlets, to take out the bed frizz, not damaging the curls. She pulled it through her fringe, straightening it out, before reaching into another drawer and pulling out a small cranberry coloured velvet bow, on a hidden gold clip. She pinned it gently above the right side of Clove's fringe, before patting her head gently.

"You go sit on the bed dear, while i go find that dress."

Curling up softly on the embroidered silver sheets of her princess bed, her dizzying eyes glanced around the room, hating it, hating it all, because of the reminders of her parents. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She just wished she would feel something, some recognition, some vanity, hell, even some self-loathing, just SOMETHING. So she knew she was still alive, still a breathing person, not just a blank slate.

She wanted to volunteer so she could FEEL something. If it was pain, if it was loss, if it was death, so be it. She was a ghost wandering around in skin, a hollow shell that looked upon things emptily. When she heard herself speak, it was as if she was listening from afar; like it wasn't her, it was just a meaningless voice that floated around in her head like a curse.

Her instructors told her she was ready. Those sorts of people; the ones who feel like they don't feel; they were the sorts of people that were excellent recruits. They were the ones who would win. Those sorts would push themselves to the very limit, the very boundaries of the humane, to experience some sensation of an emotion. They were the ones who would come out alive, return from the arena because they had killed to try and restore some sort of guilt or psychopathic happiness.

The other three academies were hesitant when it came to people like that. It was risky; dangerous, they were too unstable. They were too afraid, too frightened to tamper in the creation of a real monster.

Sure, there had been winners from the others; Serpent, Scorpion and Shark, but everyone knew where most victors had come from, the victors with the amazing and terrible feats performed trailing behind them as a blessing as a curse. Everyone knew that that camp, the dark one in the forest, was the place to go to win. Only the real fighters, the real assassins with the cold hearts and the steely minds who were prepared to do anything were accepted.

It was a breeding ground for death.

"Here you are, dear."

Clove turned away from the looking glass to face Gliespe who held her reaping dress. It was a dark, all encompassing black, with sleeves down to just past the crook of her elbow, and it hung to just above her knees. Nipped in in the waist, it came down in a sweet petticoat. It had a simple white ribbon around the centre, nothing too fancy or diamond-studded like some of those ridiculous ensembles from District One. But what marked it out was the flock of blood curdlingly crimson ravens that swarmed up from the ribbon to the place where her heart was meant to be. She wore simple black pumps as shoes, and black tights.

"Put it on then, dear! I want to see you in it." Slipping it on over her underwear, she turned around for Gliespe to tug up the zip before pulling on the tights.

"Oh, Clove." Gliespe whispered once she had turned around to face her. Putting her fingers up to her lips, tears began to swell in her eyes, before she pulled something out of her pocket.

"This is for you, rosebud. Alexander- he gave it to me. He knew this day would one day come."

Motioning for Clove to put out her arm, she uncurled Clove's fingers from her palm before placing something softly on it.

Looking down, Clove saw it was a silver locket. It had a dainty front, and was engraved with a single, perfect rose, the petals drooping with carved dew. Slowly flicking the clasp, she felt her breath catch in her throat, even if only for a second. In it was a small picture of a smiling brother and sister, opposite a piece of paper inked with a small message in her brother's unruly scrawl.

Stay strong.

You can do this.

Pushing her curls over her shoulders, onto her chest, she gave Gliespe the locket to fasten around her neck. Once the task was done, she turned back to face the full length mirror beside her bathroom

There, on her left arm, from the crook of her elbow to her wrist, was a depiction of a flock of perfect, malicious black ravens, wings pushed back as they scaled upwards to her veins, marking her, tying her to where she belonged.

The fourth academy.

The Ravens.

* * *

District 12

12:36 PM,

May 19th

His reaping morning had been quite different.

When the sky broke upwards in a silent prayer to morning, when thin slithers of snow white nonsense clashed with rose and apricot arcs of dawn, he had risen. The air was musty, thick as a slice of doorstop bread as he busied himself around the ramshackle kitchen, pulling on his scarred jacket and supple boots, downing a quick glass of sharp, rusty water. His mother, Hazelle, was up, filling the tarnished old bathtub up with heated water from the kettle on the spitting fire in the grate. He had bathed after his emergency shift in coal mine yesterday, so he bade her a quick goodbye with a promise to be back in an hour or so. Her hand had lingered a little longer on his shoulder than usual.

He had checked on his snares and traded a squirrel for bread with the baker. He gave Gale a pat on the arm and wished him luck, eyes full of barely suppressed fear for his own two sons, the third too old to possibly be drawn in the Reaping. Then he had completed his ritual of slipping under the fence, to meet her in the forest.

Katniss Everdeen.

The girl who looked like his sister, with the umber hair and the olive skin and the charcoal grey eyes. She smiled and they talked, but even though there was that little spark inside of him when her hand brushed over his bicep, it wasn't magical. It left him feeling sort of... hollow. Sure, he thought she was pretty, and they got on well, but he detested that COLDNESS inside of her. There was no passion, just disinterest and contempt. She was so guarded, and he never found any passion in her, just a blank, soulless stare. Her distrust and wild temper, aswell as the atmosphere her general being gave off did not make her ideal for love. The only time he had ever seen any warmth; any heat of love in those eyes, it was when she looked at that Mellark kid. He didn't know why, but she would smile (a rarity with Katniss) whenever she looked at Mellark, smile like bliss itself had touched her. When they went to trade with the baker, she would always balance precariously on her tiptoes when she thought Gale wasn't looking, scanning the bakery for his warm face. And Mellark obviously felt the same way, if the blush that lit up his face when Katniss was near was any indication.

But, enough about Gale's morning. What matters is what is occurring now, in the crowded square, packed full of children and their loved ones, as Effie Trinket totters back onto the stage after that dishonest film of hers. What matters is her over-manicured hand reaching into that big glass bowl.

He glances over at Katniss, biting her lip with absolute fear in her eyes. She catches his look and returns one, before snapping her head back to Effie, who taps the microphone, smiling falsely at the crowd.

"And this year's District 12 female tribute is..." He can almost hear the heartbeats of everyone around him, beads of sweat trickling down spines and limbs shifting in uncomfortable clothes, hoping, praying your name is not the one Effie is about to call out. "LEAH CERULEAN!" She shouts out, teeth filed down to look sharp, dangerous.

A simultaneous ripple of whispers and shuffling surfs through shaking-with-relief or highly strung bodies, as the crowd parts to reveal a girl.

She looks to be thirteen, nothing special. Her skin is peach, hair long and nutmeg orientated; streaks of ginger mixed in with soft brown. It's straight, one side pushed back behind her ear, as she looks around, shell shocked. Her eyelashes are black and dewy and ripe with little tremors of unshed tears. Her eyes are paintstripper blue; faded and interspersed with blue jean navy among aquamarine stripes. Her dress matches those irises, blue like her last name, soft and pretty, faded and patched but still better than most here.

She must be from the merchant side of town, he decides. She bows her head, and her hair swishes and tumbles, strands interlocking over strands as she shuffles forward, climbing the stairs, like she's already resigned to her fate. No-one volunteers, as usual, so she stands, disheartened and disillusioned.

Gale always tells himself not to look as the tribute makes her/his way up to the stage, but he does anyway. They always have something that ties them to his memory; some significant feature that etches them into his mind. There was Rosaina, with the long, dark curls, from three years ago, Kartian with the snub nose from last year; Heather with the freckles from five years ago. The thing that would connect this girls picture to his mind would be those eyes; inhumanly, electrically blue.

Effie's hand reaches back down into the hundreds of slips of paper, and unlike almost everyone else, he isn't praying that it won't be him that is picked. Instead, he treats it with cool indifference; there's nothing tying him here, but there's nothing pulling him to the Capitol. He is stuck in limbo, not really caring where he goes.

"Peeta Mellark!" Effie calls, and the crowd parts to reveal his frightened face. And what Gale does next is unexpected for everyone, even himself.

He looks at Katniss, her eyes swollen with unshed tears and the way her hand flutters like a widows fingers on her chest.

He looks at Peeta, who's eyes have worriedly found Katniss as he memorises every inch of her face like the words of a song as he makes his ascent to the stage.

He thinks about his lack of anything-anything that keeps him here, no love, no child, no sweetheart, nothing.

And he does the unthinkable.

Without so much as a deep breath to calm his nerves, he steps forward. His hands don't shake, eyes don't water.

He looks back at Katniss and the loss and love in her eyes for Mellark.

"I volunteer." He states, calmly, simply.

Katniss' mouth widens and her eyes go wide, though not holding the forlorn look that they held for Peeta, but saddened just the same.

Mellark's eyes dance from Katniss to Gale and back. His mouth is slack and he doesn't know whether to keep his pride and say that he'll go in, thank Gale or let out a shout of hallelujah, so he settles for silence, along with the rest of the square, apart from Effie.

"O-okay!" She squawks, trying to hide her confusion. "District Twelve's first ever volunteer! Mr Mellark, you may go back down to the crowd, if you please." Peeta jolts into normalcy and give Gale a look that says are you sure? With a curt nod from Gale, he strides off with a happiness in his eyes. Gale climbs up the stairs over to a hyperactive Effie, who is almost faint with excitement at the volunteer. Gale doesn't give her any sign or any of the drama, just stands stoic, still and icy, taking a leaf out of Katniss' book. It is an effect, so quiet and shadow-like, that intimidation radiates from him like spilt ink.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Gale Hawthorne." He states, nothing more, nothing less.

Effie, is a bit shocked at his cold demeanour, but she shakes it off and continues.

"Shake hands." Leah and Gale comply, and she stares into his grey irises with fear and respect. He half-smiles at her, breaking his attitude to give her reassurance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for District 12, Gale Hawthorne and Leah Cerulean!"

* * *

District 2

12:37,

May 19th

The reaping square was silent as she made her way up to the stage. This bird of a girl, thin but no less menacing. She was terrifying, like a shadow, climbing the stage all in black. Her skin was luminous in the demon-like sky, and her eyes, so green, were glazed over with hardening power. So different from her vulnerability with Gliespe earlier, she commanded such an amazing sense of authority, presided over the crowd with such a fiery temper, strong and intense.

"What is you-" The dim witted escort with the sea green curly hair didn't even get to finish her sentence.

"Clove Shadow." She hissed, staring down the escort with fury and cold distance.

"Oh, okay." The escort shook her head, trying to get rid of the curious sensation that her soul had been looked into. Clove's stare tended to give people that sensation.

Soon enough, the boy's name had been plucked out of the glass bowls.

"Arios Snarcrack." She whistled out, much quieter now that this Shadow girl had volunteered.

"I volunteer." Came the voice, hard, cold and intimidatingly cruel. He said it with the same finality as the girl, the same daunting mannerism, as if daring anyone to come close. He climbed the stairs, his mouth in a straight line. He was wearing black trousers, a black shirt, a black jacket; everything black. The only splash of colour was the red raven on his lapel.

"Cato Manor." He stated, before flashing a quick charming smile to Clove, who returned it. Cato was like her brother; they had known each other so long. She only really felt alive with him.

His blonde hair glinted and blue eyes glistened in a tan face; the type of face the Capitol would go insane over. The flibbertigibbet escort stared at him, seemingly lost for words. The sleeves of his jacket and shirt were pushed up to his elbows, revealing the flock of black ravens tattooed on his right forearm, exactly the same as Clove's own.

"Shake hands, tributes!"

But, they did not shake hands. Linking their fingers instead, they raised their forearms upwards, showing off the raven tattoos to the crowd. But they made no smiles or laughs about the matter, just stood there silent and powerful, a metaphor for all time and pain and loss suffered ever. Just them, hands linked, like Norse gods, frozen and terrifying. And although the crowd guessed they were Ravens, when they saw the ravens, that flock tattooed upon their delicate skin of their wrists, their insides froze with fear. They knew the dark hearts that that place bred.

And with their arms raised, over the hill where the dead black trees grew old and crooked, a colony of evil black ravens swarmed and flew up, just shadows in the sky.

* * *

District 12 Justice Centre,

3:28,

May 19th

"Why? Why did you save me?"

He had expected Katniss and his family to visit him, which they had. But what he hadn't expected was Mellark to actually come and thank him.

"Hello? Gale? Why did you save me? Not that I'm not thankful, which I really truly am. But that place is a certain death trap!"

"Listen, Peeta," Gale crossed the room towards the confused boy, till they were that close he could hear Peeta's breath quicken. He had never seen a room like this, velvet and brocade, jewel studded cushions and warm oak, but it was not the time to think of such trivial things. Gale's charcoal eyes were glazed over with hardness and a determined air radiated from him. "I have nothing here. But you-you have Katniss. And don't deny it; she has eyes that shine when you are near. But, now that I'm going there, you have to take that chance and talk to her. Let her know how you feel. Don't waste this chance, okay , Mellark? Promise me."

Peeta nodded and thanked him once more.

"Please, Peeta. Stop thanking me!" Gale let's down a mirthless chuckle, which Peeta smiles at, before the peacekeeper escorts him out the door. Sinking back onto a sapphire blue chair, he sighs, eyes flickering around a room that he knows will be the last memory of his district.

* * *

Halfway between District One and the Capitol,

4:02

May 19th

Who was that boy?

The boy with the brown hair and slate grey eyes the colour of the rain when it poured. The colour of the dreary waves of the lake by the sand that her and Cato sometimes retired to after training, to discuss a new weapon or technique or sometimes just to think and skim stones.

Something stirred inside her when he stood, stoic and magnificently terrifying, like a Raven volunteer, cold and icy, a frozen statue on the stage.

She felt... SOMETHING.

It was like a fire, licking at her ribcage, until sparks began to burn her heart in a relentless but beautifully painful flame, like sparking, burning embers that tore at her torso.

She, Clove Shadow, the raven, the girl who couldn't feel, FELT SOMETHING.

* * *

Just passing District 4,

4:23,

May 18th

She was like a porcelain doll. That was his first thought as the girl from District Two called out her volunteering status. Tiny and lily white, she was perfect, sweet and shy.

But then, when he saw her stand on the stage, her unnerving glare so fearsome and commanding, something changed. Sure he was attracted to her at first- WAY, WAY attracted-but when he saw that fiery temper and that predatory stance, his head felt ready to burst with curiosity.

And they (The girl and the boy, according the commentator named Clove and Cato) were bloodcurdling. They were fear, embodied.

Unlike the tributes last year, with the blue serpent tattoos and who wore the shimmery aqua outfits, they looked like people who would win. Those tributes looked rather silly, but she-they looked intimidating, dressed in black and red with those dark ravens etched on their wrists. They looked like killers.

Frighteningly murderous.

And even though she could most likely cut his heart out, neatly, and make him eat it, he wanted to find out more about this girl.

Even if it got him killed.


	2. Marble Collarbones

**Hi guys! So I'm updating again, please, please review, they really make my day! Replies to reviewers at the bottom!**

* * *

Ten Minutes away from The Capitol

4:52 pm

May 19th

Cato tapped his fingers on the glass screen of the tv in the cinema section of the train, making small echoes tick around the empty room. Well, it was empty apart from him and Clove; their mentors and escort had retired around half an hour ago. He left fingerprints all over the tv, and the paused image of the girl rippled and sputtered.

"You see her, Clove? She's pretty."

He said, eyes widening as he scanned her face. Clove, feet laid up on the seat next to her, flipping through a Capitolian magazine, sighed.

"Yes, she is, but she's also thirteen, Cato."

"So?"

When you live in a dark place with malicious people who tear at your livelihood, you will need an escape. Something that lets you forget, makes the memories of the horrendous fade a way, just a little, even if only for an hour or two. For Clove, it was training. She threw herself into it, so much so se was able to rival Cato, an eighteen year old, the best in the academy, in a fight. Their scores were level, even though he was three years older than her. And she'd beat him the same number of times that he'd beat her, earning her a spot in the older class. She was exceptional; every minute from 5:30am to 10:29 pm, she was there hurling knives and spears, twisting her body like a contortionist to duck and dive and dodge. She took no breaks, just fought until she was on the brink of exhaustion.

For Cato, it was women. They were his guilty pleasure; late night rendezvous in alleyways and hotel bedrooms, negligee and intoxicating perfume. While Clove could forget her secrets and sins with the the slice of a knife in her grip, Cato needed sultry fumbles, unhooking bras and lingering kisses. Clove had seen more than one girl stagger out from Cato's room (when they sometimes stayed in the academy overnight) in the morning, high heels in hand, shirt inside out and makeup smudged, blithering through the walk of shame, while Cato stood, leaning on the doorframe, a wicked sparkle in his eyes, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats and a cocky smirk, exposing his sumptuous chest. But, for all his skeevy needs and unscrupulous buisness, Cato was a surprising gentleman. He always walked Clove home from the training academy in the night, their district having a reputation of misbehavings. Once, a drunk tripped out from a doorstop and began to leer at Clove, his hands pulling at her shirt. Sure, she could've dealt with him alone, but Cato growled and lunged at him from the shadows, knocking him out with one swipe of a massive hand. Clove had to hold him back from snapping the drunk's neck.

Cato was VERY protective of Clove; she was his best friend. He said, and quote; "She was the only woman he could stand to be around for longer than a night."

Although Cato treasured women and the frequently amazing 3-4 hours he spent ravishing them every night, he had astounding commitment issues finding a girl who he could actually trust, talk to and spend forever with. He had Clove to do all of that. There was no romantic feelings between them, but she was the only girl he really NEEDED.

Anyway, back to the present.

"You can't hit and quit a thirteen year old, Cato. She's too young." Clove deadpanned, eyes studying a section on the latest tattoo trends in the Capitol.

"Hey now," Cato chuckled, hands raised in the air. "Who ever said I wanted to, you know, do that with her?"

"I can't believe, after everything you've been up to, you still can't say the word sex without getting all embarrassed."

He laughed. "You know me, Clove, little kid at heart. But this girl, she is... pretty. Not hot, pretty." He blushed, running one hand up and down his bicep nervously.

"Oh come on, Cato. You and I both know that as soon as we get there you are going to bed that girl from One, the girl from Five, the females from Ten, Seven and Three, and possibly our escort, and it will be all out of your system." She sighed, before doing an impression of their escort. "Oh Cato honey, you're muscles are sooooo big! Please sweep me to the nearest four poster and blind me with bliss before never speaking to me again!"

"Shut up, Clove. I'm being serious, she's sweet. And don't think I didn't see the way you were checking out the boy from her district."

Clove blushed (curse those pale cheeks of hers) and hid her head further into the magazine, ignoring him.

"What was his name? Ah yes, Gale."

He widened his eyes and batted his insanely long eyelashes, holding his hands up to his chest. "Oh Gale, you're so hot, take me to the bedroom and ravish me this instant." He was so busy fake mooning and impersonating Clove he did not see the rolled up magazine flying toward him before it hit him square in the temple.

"Owwwww!" He whined, rubbing his forehead ruefully, giving her a death glare. "You know, you suck sometimes."

"God help you in the arena if a little tap with some paper causes you this much pain."

"It's the principle." He moaned, plopping down on the chair next to her, returning to gazing at Leah on the screen.

* * *

Halfway between District One and the Capitol,

4:59 pm.

Unlike the District 2 Train, there was no light-hearted banter or jokes crossing the airspace. Leah sat twiddling her thumbs, looking anywhere than Gale, while the man sat stonily, recalling the earlier encounter with their drunken mentor, Haymitch.

He had tripped and bumbled in spraying a mouth of whiskey over the floor when he began to hack and splutter.

"These are the tributes we have this year? Good lord, give me absinthe and strength."

He stuck his hand in a glass cabinet, pulling out a green gin bottle, before downing a hearty swig of the clear liquid. Effie, who turned out to be quite a nice person, shook her head and put her palm up to her forehead in exasperation. She had taken her wig off to reveal a head of bouncy brown curls. She asked the tributes if they minded, which they did not, before she explained to them how she didn't like the clothes, the makeup or the wig, but she had to wear them for her job, which she needed to keep to support her three year old little girl. She gave a glance to Haymitch's door when she told them of said daughter, which gave Gale an idea about who the deadbeat father was.

Haymitch staggered over and went to sit by Leah, an action which Gale made a mental cringe, predicting how a merchant girl would react to such filth. But instead of hearing a tantrumy screech, he looked up to see Leah sitting next to Haymitch indifferently, not really caring.

She did however snatch his gin bottle off him and put it beneath her foot, smashing it into a million liquid-stained shards. Effie put a hand over her mouth, trying in vain to stifle her laughter, before bursting out into giggles, while Gale just chuckled loudly. Leah just sat there smiling.

"You think it's funny?" Haymitch roared, effectively silencing everyone. "You two stand absolutely no chance in that place. Look at you. You're PATHETIC." He screamed, spraying spittle everywhere. "Especially YOU! You'll be dead by sunrise there." He smirked nastily, directing it at Leah, shouting far too close to her face. "You weak little bitch."

Effie gasped.

Leah just stared.

Gale, well Gale lunged over the table and slammed his fist into Haymitch's face.

"You leave Leah alone!" He yelled, with fiery evil burning in his passionate eyes.

Haymitch shakily got to his feet and smiled, blotting at his bleeding nose with his messy cuffs.

"Well, well, well, looks like District 12 might have a winner this year." He cackled, before stumbling back to his room.

"Well," Mumbled Leah, breaking the silence, pulling at threads on her sleeves. "He needed some breathspray."

Now they sat in silence. She looked afraid of him, jumping slightly at every slow movement he made.

"So, Leah," He smiled, trying to be friendly. "Where do you live?"

Really speaking, he should've said where DID you live, because there was very little chance of either of them returning, but he was trying to comfort her for god's sake.

"Near the seam, near the merchant side. It's half and half really. About five minutes away from the school."

"I live in the Seam. You have any siblings?"

"Two older sisters. Hayl lives in the seam now, and Natali married a merchant. And I have a twin brother Call. He works in the mines sometimes."

"Call Cerulean? Yeah, I think I've met him before, spiky brown hair, greeny-brown eyes?"

"Yup. And I have a cat called Suki, but she's old now."

"You know Prim Everdeen? She's got a cat."

"Course I know Prim and Buttercup. I mean, PUH-LEASE, who within a five mile radius of the Seam doesn't know the Everdeens? DUH." She smiled friendly at him, mock slapping her palm to her forehead.

"That's me, thick as a rock." Gale knocked his fist against his head in a "Is anyone home gesture" that got Leah into a fit of sarcastic giggles. Then, Gale knew they would be friends.

* * *

Clove and Cato tumbled into the training centre in an in-elegant, un-graceful heap, after being practically molested by HORDES of press and tribute-enthusiasts. Why shouldn't they be? District 2, home of all power, leaders of the careers. Questions were fired at them as they were ushered in, surrounded by peacekeepers.

"Miss Shadow! What is your weapon of choice?"

"Mr Manor! Are you aware of your new "pin-up" status in the Capitol?"

"Miss Shadow! What is your opinion on being named "most beautiful" of the female tributes?"

"Miss Shadow! Do you think there will be any animosity between you and any specific tributes? For example, Glimmer?"

"Mr Manor, Mr Manor!"

"What the bloody hell was all that about?!" Clove exclaimed, fanning herself with a weary hand as they collapsed on a pair of low-lying eggplant coloured chairs in the modern ground floor, while their mentors made arrangements with a snarky secretary at a desk.

"That was fucking pandemonium!" Cato growled, beads of sweat dropping down his forehead, strangely making him all the more attractive.

Near them sat the District One couple. The boy sat picking at his nails, while the girl had taken out a compact mirror and was pouting at herself.

Soon, Cato had squinched their chair over to District One, and Clove sat with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. She didn't really like people.

"So, hey, cutie." Cato purred at the female. Clove swore he had a charm on/off switch to go from little boy to smooth ladies man. "Do you have a beautiful name to match that beautiful face of yours?"

"Oh stop it, you!" She laughed, tossing about silky blonde curls and puckering up pink lips. Clove scowls even more.

"Oh baby, if you let me, you would never want me to stop what I'd want to do to you." He winks and she dissolves into a fit of giggles, before smiling seductively.

"The name's Glimmer, babe, don't wear it out."

"Well, Glimmer, may I say you have enchanting eyes?"

While Cato began to flirt the living daylights out of Glimmer, Clove glanced around the lobby, cool marble and silver trim. Super modern, all white and maroon and metal. In District 2, renaissance was in fashion at the minute. The gold brocade and gilded chairs were a sign of wealth back home, not vast empty rooms full of black spikes and triangles.

"So then Glimmer, you pop up to our floor anytime you please alright?"

She nods and flutters her eyelashes at him, smiling. "See ya baby. C'mon Clove, Brutus is calling us up."

He winked at Glimmer and she blew him a kiss. Clove rolled her eyes as they made their way to the elevator, punching his bicep as they climbed inside and pressed the number "2".

"What? That was a total score!" He laughed, pulling his arm back in a overjoyed motion.

* * *

"Well, well, well." The stylist strutted into the clear glass room, closely followed by another stylist, who looked a lot meeker. "The beautiful pair from two. Adonis and Godiva." She was tall wearing black sneakers to her knee, with sparkling white laces, and silver and black doubled -up fishnets that led up to a fluffy tutu-ed candyfloss dress, sugar pink with a ballet tutu skirt. She had one fingerless glove on, made out of black netting. She had creamy white skin and a wicked grin, and sparkling blue eyes. Het hair was sandy blonde streaked with black and pink, tousled and hair-prayed back in a big beehive with long straight strands left running down her shoulder blades. Her eyelashes were thick and black and laced with hot pink. Below one eye she had a small tattoo of a black star, and had bubblegum pink lips. Although it sounded quite crazy, the whole punk effect looked perfect on her skinny twenty-ish frame. Clove could see Cato checking her out of the corner of his eye.

"My my, we have a lot we can do with

you, isn't that right? I'm Avril, and this is Cato's stylist, Dario." Dario had spiky ginger hair and purple eyes, and was quite unremarkable. Cato groaned slightly when he realised he didn't have Avril, because of her beauty and just generally because she was a woman.

"Clove, will you come with me please? The stylist team are going to give you a once over. It's not as drastic as the people in the outlying districts; careers normally keep their body hair in check." She winked. "Cato, you are to go with Dario. This year, we're going to do a little bit of a different slant. This year, instead of dowdy and diamond studded, we're going to do... Well I'll let you wait and see yourself. Neither of you are body conscious are you?" She laughed, and grabbed Clove by the hand, pulling her into a sterile white room to begin her beauty treatment.

* * *

Gale almost yelled out in frustrating as he was poked and spun and plucked and pulled from pillar to post, waiting to FINALLY be dressed in his outfit.

"'S a good thing he's already buffed up and got that perfectly defined six pack. Otherwise it would take more time to do it professionally."

Gale thanked god that he was already "buffed up".

"Right, you just wait her for Portia now."

He relaxed on a soft plump pouffe, slinging on a cream robe and putting his hands behind his head and sighing. He was so confused, surrounded by these crazy idiots like his prep team, Narini with the towering quiff sparkled with gold and orange, Marci Luna with the big fake eyelashes lashed with violet and Wax with the cosmetic elf ears. God knows what this Portia would end up like.

"Hello, Mr Hawthorne."

His eyes flickered open to see an alien-or what was akin to it-standing in front of him. He didn't even know how to describe those frizzy white blonde curls and insane lashes. And she wasn't even the strangest person he'd seen here.

"So, let's get straight down to it." She twittered mindlessly, obviously fed the information by Cinna. "This year, the Capitol has not been afraid to explore the erotic side of life. And this years designers are going to reflect that in their older tributes. Of course, with Leah we can't do that, she's too young, but with you... with you and your six pack and olive skin, broad arms, etcetera, you we can experiment with. District 12 is a mining community, right?"

Gale nodded, a bit unsure where she was going with this "erotic" business.

"Well, just imagine this has been a VERY hot day down there." She winked, and Gale's eyes widened in preparation of a long night to come.

* * *

"Good lord, Clove. If I didn't like guys, I'd jump you right now." Clove began to laugh. She was lovely, but Avril was very brash and not afraid to say what she felt. Lately, Clove hadn't been feeling so empty, more full up with laughter and that spark in the pit of her stomach that started when she saw Gale. He drove her insane in the need to see his face again.

"Don't just laugh at me, go look at yourself!"

She pushed Clove towards a full-length mirror where the wall had been two minutes ago. She was tiny, but Clove was still shorter.

"Jesus-Fucking-Christ."

Thick high heeled black heels with gold soles (representing metal gold) boosted her height even just a tiny bit, with black fishnets covered in silver (iron) sparkles. Black shorts trimmed with a small grey bow barely grazed below her upper thighs, and was covered in bits of swords. She had a silken grey top that slimmed quick along her bones, tight flecked with black spots and lace (representing marble) tight and splattered with red like blood. On her collarbones and chest, silver paint had been melded about to portray a glimmer like she was made of rock. Apart from the bits of weapons splayed on the tiny skirt the blood on her top, the paint on her collarbones, and the metal/rock colours it made no relations to masonry or weapons that was District 2, but still. Her hair was left in its ringlets and loose down to around about her belly button. She had a small grey and black lace trimmed bow at the top, which complemented her perfectly.

She looked beautiful and completely, utterly attractive.

"I love it, but aren't the chariot outfits meant to be dark and scary, murderous and evil, not sex?"

"Thats so LAST year. The Capitol is so over the goth stage. They really are very fickle." Avril rolled her eyes. "This year is all about touch and feel, and personality and being in-tune with oneself. Thy want uniqueness and free spirit erotica. So, sex is what sponsors want, and sex is what they'll get. Don't worry-you'll knock 'em dead. You're sex-on-legs, kiddo." She winked.

"I feel awkward."

"You look amazing! Now come on!"

She pulled Clove along over and out the door to where Cato stood. His impressive body was painted like Clove to look like marble, but was more pronounced than Clove's, which was just a little shimmer. He had almost invisible shorts on, so he looked like he was completely made out of rock, incredible and muscly.

"God, Clove. If you weren't my best friend..."

"Put a sock in it, Cato. I feel naked, it's irritating."

"You look fiiiiine."

They were alone in the elevator, side by side. Even though he was painted, they'd left the dark raven tattoos visible, as they were on Clove's wrist as well.

"Don't say another word, Cato."

* * *

Gale was sweating like mad after the rage and roar of the crowd had been contained once more. They had all screeched for all the older tributes in their skimpy clothes, reaching out like they wanted to paw at their bare bodies. Gale had long khaki shorts to his knees, but nothing else. He had coal streaks against his sharp cheekbones, and Portia had used a chemical to make his blood stream heat up so he would sweat like an animal. He had a pick and it was slung over his shoulder as the chariot swayed and ricketed.

When they were finally disclosed in a room out of the hall where they had ended up in after the long journey down the streets and where the Capitolonian's had yelled and clucked like hens, he breathed a sigh of relief. Jumping down from the chariot, he stared around the room. It was blank grey, non-descript, and full of tributes milling around and chatting. He looked over to Leah, but she was smiling over at the girl from District 11. Not wanting to spoil a new friendship (and a possible alliance later), he just drifted aimlessly among the people, until he heard a bit of a commotion going on near. Edging up against the wall, he listened in.

"Hey beautiful Clove, you looked super hot out there." It was Marvel from District 1. He was backing up on what Gale supposed was Clove, one arm encircling her waist, the other running it's fingers up and down her side, until settling, splayed on her ass. He couldn't see her properly, but could just see her outline. Weirdly, he felt his blood boil at Marvel, even though he'd never even spoken to her, he felt a raging possession and jealousy over her, like she was HIS, just his.

_She's mine. _

_Woah, where had that thought come from? Gale, you've never even taken to her._

While he was debating with himself, before clicking back in, Clove started to look sweetly up at him, batting thick lashes, warning a smug grin off Marvel. Just as he was beginning to relax, she spun around and clasped her fingers around his neck, pushing him up against the grey. He looked so stupid in his sparkly diamond shorts, pinned up against the wall by someone as tiny as Clove.

"Don't touch me ever again, okay District 1? Don't even look at me." Her voice was dangerously quiet but her eyes were full of evil fire. He was struggling but she was swift and strong so he had to give in and lie limply like a fool. "If it was up to me, scum like you wouldn't even be in the careers. Don't fucking touch me EVER again." She let him down and he scrambled away, clutching at his neck and taking in deep breaths.

"Okay, Two?"

Clove whipped around to meet the slate eyes of one Gale Hawthorne, stripped to his waist and streaked with charcoal. His tan skin was glistening with sweat and shone in the minimal light, his chocolate hair bristly and rumpled. His eyebrow was raised as he leaned against the wall, but she found her eyes being drawn to his sumptuous muscles from hacking away at the coalface.

"What, twelve?" She hissed, masking her incredible attraction.

He almost felt his jaw drop when she faced him. She was just incredible. That tight petticoat and those rumpled curls and those steamingly beautiful eyes. And he would be lying if he didn't say he was attracted to her in that skimpy outfit. Because he was still a teenage boy, and she was a teenage girl wearing... almost... nothing. He almost lost himself and lunged at her, but managed to restrain himself.

"I was just asking if you were okay. Because of that whole, y'know, District One thing..." He bumbled, blushing and running his hand up and down his arm.

"Oh. Sorry." She was gobsmacked. Nobody had ever asked her if she was okay without being sarcastic, apart from Gliespe.

"I'm Gale. Gale Hawthorne." He stuck out his hand, and began to blush as she stared at it curiously.

"Clove Shadow." She slowly extended her own hand and and took his, shaking it slowly. While she felt like thick flames lashing at her, engulfing her in endless waves of longing, he felt an icy mould on him begin to crack, and he wanted to scoop her up in his arms to make it split and thin out until it was melted completely and they were as one.

"See ya soon twelve, maybe at the dinner later."

"Dinner?"

clato4ever7- Thank you! Please let me know what you think of this chapter!

UnseenWonders-Why fanks Leah Bear ;)

Please review? They make me so happy!


	3. Fire and Light

Look at me, updating again! I really love this story; I have a lot of ideas for this, so expect a lot of updates for the time being! But please will you leave me some reviews? They really mean a lot to me! Can I have five by the next update? It would really mean a lot to me!

Thanks!

* * *

She had talked to him. Actual mouth-to-mouth conversation! She couldn't believe it. And he had smiled and blushed like her opinion of him had actually mattered. Now, instead of that empty blush, those glass smiles and plastic emotions that were edging back in on her chest, pores of light exploded and her whole body glowed, glowed. Her ribcage almost shone like gold with the amount of illumination her beating heart and cryptic maze of veins had produced. Her collarbones, her vertebrae, her abdomen; all set ablaze.

She didn't feel like a shadow anymore; just like a ghost of the light. The beautiful, brazen light.

Stomping up to the elevator impatiently and looking around for Cato who had mysteriously disappeared, she pressed the "2" button hard and stepped inside, agitatedly tapping her foot. She was impatient- she wanted the dinner to come quickly, so she could just study his face, the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled, the scar through his bottom lip, the one dimple in his left cheek, EVERYTHING. She didn't know of these small imperfections just yet, not like we do, just as he didn't know about the smattering of ginger freckles on her nose or her too-skinny shoulder blades or the scar that her fringe hid on her forehead, but she wanted so desperately to just follow and trace every little line on his face. Just lie there next to him, memorising every inch. And yes-it was scary to feel like this, falling so hard down an endless hole for someone who barely knew she existed; it was beyond the boundaries of terrifying. Clove didn't trust many people; only Cato and Gliespe, really, and for good reason too, but she just couldn't control her reactions when she was around him, like she was made of glass, every centimetre of her watchable, like the heart which seemed now to beat only for him and the warmth he radiated from himself like a portable flame. Clove hadn't met anyone with that kind of kindness, that kind of incredible care that marked him out from everyone else. She thought she had, but when she saw him, met him for the first time, even just stood near him, she knew she had been surrounded by ice for all her life.

And she didn't ever want to go back to ice after she'd tasted fire.

* * *

Crashing open the door to her floor, key in hand, she tumbled inside, smiling idiotically to herself in the way she wouldn't have been able to if she was with people. She had been stuck down there for an hour and a half afterwards; people kept wanting to talk to her when she just wanted to dream about him, alone. They kept asking her where Cato was, like she knew. He had escaped before he had been cornered.

The floor was seemingly empty; on further search she found a note on a low lying black glass table.

Dear Cato and Clove.

We (Brutus, Enobaria and I) have been called out to an exclusive party for the magazine Lime. It may have a photo opportunity for you; which in turn could get you sponsors, so you realise why it is urgent business. Avril and Dario will be back at half eight to style you for the dinner at quarter past nine. Please don't skip or turn up late for the dinner; it really is imperative to get you the sponsors District Two needs and deserves. There will be a lot of rich, important Capitolians there, so remember your manners.

Sincerely,

Esmeralda Sternwater,

District Two Escort.

Tossing the paper back down, Clove rolled her eyes and checked the time. It was ten minutes past eight; so she had a few minutes to kill while waiting for Avril. She found she already missed the crazy stylist, just a little- she was quite funny.

Although the note explained why their three "guardians" were missing, it did not explain the absence of one Cato Manor.

"Cato? You up here? Or are you in one of the various bedroo-" Her sentence was cut short by a sound of a door creaking open, black gloss catching the minimal light. A pretty tan girl with gorgeous wavy curls that were slightly messed up and mussed skittered out, clutching a pair of asymmetrical silver heels, pulling on the hem of her VERY revealing silver corset lingerie that was timed to glow and shimmer in different places, like a circuit board. She wore nothing else apart from a creased white shirt that was a man's range and at least 5 times to big for her hourglass figure. She blushed when she saw Clove, ducking her head before twisting her body at the waist to look back at where she just came from.

"Bye bye, Marci." Cato sing-songed, wearing nothing but a wicked grin and a pair of navy boxers that were on backwards after being flung on in haste. He winked at her and she spun back on her heel, putting her hands up to her face in embarrassment as she turned the Walk of Shame into the Run of Shame, fleeing out the door and into of the safety of the non-descript hallway and golden elevator outside.

Clove sighed, and began to laugh.

"Should've known this is where you'd be. Who was she?"

"District 3. Fucking immense."

"Explains the circuit board negligee."

"Hot, wasn't it?"

"Jesus, Cato. Put some sweatpants on or something. Avril will be here in…" She glanced back to the digital clock on the table. "Seven minutes."

"Maybe I'll just stay like this. I don't know if you've noticed Clove, but Avril is HOT."

She rolled her eyes. "Where did that girl even get the shirt? You were just wearing shorts earlier."

"You really want to know?"

"Not really. Man, you really can not keep it in your pants can you?"

He just laughed, closing his eyes as he rummaged for sweats, slinging them on when he found the simple grey cloth.

"What happened to this Leah girl? You were pretty hung up on her."

He blushed, and frowned, his eyebrows knitted together as he stared down at the floor.

"I don't know, Clove. She-She'stoogoodforme." He said, mumbling the last part.

"What did you say?"

"She's too good for me."

"What? Cato, why would you think that?"

His answer was cut short by the door swinging open as Avril tumbled in, dragging a gigantic case of makeup behind her, Dario following behind, weakly directing people carrying clothes bag to the separate bedrooms.

"Hiya!" Avril giggled. She'd changed, her hair now straightened so the sugar pink streaks were more visible, and had slung on black skinny jeans and a simple white t-shirt printed with a crumbly black star laced with pink. Even though she looked spectacular earlier, her fresh faced grin and skinny frame suited her even more in these relaxed garments; she looked like a teenager again.

"You don't mind me wearing these do you? I prefer this sort of stuff but I had to give you "the right first impression"." She rolls her eyes, making quotations with her fingers. "That's what the stylist supervisor says anyway. She's a BITCH." She gives them a mischievous beam and a wink that makes Cato melt out of the corner of Clove's eye. "Anyway, let's get started! Clove, let's go!" She giggled and grabbed Clove's hand and pulled her towards the door.

"Don't worry- the dress code is more elegant, less, um, bare... The people you will be talking to tonight are very old-school. Very classy, and aren't as volatile to the fads as the rest of the younger Capitol. So they wouldn't be impressed if you turned up in negligee."

Clove breathed a sigh of relief as Avril set to work.

* * *

Gale was almost falling asleep at the table as they waited for the guests to arrive. Leah, sitting on table Six, was making funny faces at herself in a spoon, her white fantail dress contrasting beautifully with her nutmeg hair. Gale himself was seated at table Ten, waiting for his fellow tribute to hurry the hell up and sit down. There was twenty four tributes, of course, and twelve tables, apart from the banquet table at the top where President Snow and the gamemakers would be seated, so two tributes were placed on each table.

Only a few of the tributes had arrived so far, Gale and Leah two of them. Elegantly suited out in a clean cut black suit with a pressed white shirt, contrasting and looking cool and fresh with his smooth tan skin and his mahogany hair. On his lapel was a bird with trailing feathers, shining with the orange and red of the rubies and topaz's of its fiery eyes. Leah had her hair straight and flowing past her shoulder, threaded with tiny crimson and cantaloupe coloured flowers and threaded in. She had minimal makeup; she was only thirteen, so they wanted to keep her fresh-faced and daisy-like. Her dress was ruffled and clean, white and sweet. She looked stunning, apart from the mongoose face she was pulling at herself.

Gale began to laugh and she caught his eye, smiling.

Thresh was yawning and stretching while a pretty green-dress-clad Rue was studying her nails tiredly. Only Districts Eleven, Twelve, Nine, Eight and Five had arrived so far, and everyone was bored out of their mind, waiting for their other tribute to come and liven the table up with some conversation.

* * *

"Cato?" Clove said, gently touching his hand as the elevator clunked downwards. He glanced down at her, an amiable if perturbed smile on his face.

"Yeah, Clove?"

"Don't be shy around her. You are good enough, no matter what you think. Please, just try. If you like her as much as you say you do, just try, okay?"

He stared down at her, his whirlwind turquoise eyes wide and amiss, before sweeping her up into a hard hug, warm and companionable.

"Thanks, Clove." He mumbled into the

air above her head.

* * *

His eyes widened when he saw her walk into the room, eyes bright. Her dark hair had been left down, as always, studded and stranded with shining pearls that were barely covered by her dark curls, giving it a shimmer of silver. It was pushed behind her ear on her left side, and there was a clutch of two roses tucked there. They were palest pink, the buds veined with deeper, passionate pink. Like all the other older female tributes, she was wearing a classic ball gown. Hers was almost renaissance style; there was a corset bodice, eggshell cream beads arranged in vintage flower designs, veined with lines of hard fabric. It was basically strapless bar the yogurt pink roses around her shoulders, horizontal. The skirt was full and made up of thin cream petticoats, still beaded with those flower designs. She looked stunning, so frozen in time, a winter rose as she smiled at the usher who told her her table. Then he saw her snow white hand resting on that boy from her district's arm, Cato, and his eyes narrowed.

What the hell was he doing, touching her? She was Gale's! When she talked to him he... He didn't even have the words to describe the feeling that swarmed in his chest.

And now she was clinging on to Cato.

He too was in a black suit, with a grey shirt instead of white, with nothing on the lapel.

Behind them were the District One tributes, Glimmer and Marvel. She was wearing a ball gown too, but with a skinny skirt, black with a lace, see-through back, a lot more conspicuous than Clove's beautiful romantic gown. The boy had a sky blue suit on, which made him look utterly ridiculous, and he was glancing nervously at Clove like she was about to pounce on him.

"Thank you." She directed at the usher along with a demure grin. "See you later, Cato." She smiled at him, and widened her eyes at Table Six, showing him who he was assigned to sit with, and he let out a little boy grin as he saw the one and only Leah Cerulean, looking thoroughly bored.

"Table Ten, Table Ten..." She whispered under her breath over and over, glancing around the room to spot it, until her eyes found the silver "Ten". Gliding over to it, she slid into a chair, and found herself staring into the eyes of one Gale Hawthorne.

"Evening, District Two." He smiled, and she acknowledged his presence with a happy nod and raised an eyebrow. Before they could indulge in conversation, the doors were flung open and the crowds of what appeared to be almost dead men and women swept in, and everyone sat up a little straighter and smiled a little bigger.

* * *

Their table mates included the President's Tailor and some Capitolion ministers, and after a few pleasantries were exchanged, Gale could only watch as Clove charmed the life out of them. The tiny fighter from District 2 truly is sparkling as she tells them how fabulous the fabric and outfits are in the Capitol compared to District 2, which is experiencing problems with the train tracks from District 8. She knows every political issue that's rocketing around Panem at the minute and she's got everybody under her thumb with her charming smile and the subtle compliments she dishes out without being too kiss-assy. Fed up of being ignored, Gale slowly, slowly crept his hand until he lay it on her knee. Tensing up, he can feel her coldness, her wariness, but he just keeps it there, rubbing soft and gentle circles into her skin, but she doesn't react.

"Excuse Gentlemen and Ladies, it seems I have been ignoring my fellow tribute Gale here! Would indulge me a little time so I can make an acquaintance?"

They are all so charmed with the stars in their eyes that they nod like they are lost in wonder at her, before going back to their own individual conversations.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She hissed at him quietly, through gritted teeth.

"Getting your attention."

"Fuck off, Twelve!"

"What, don't like me?"

"A cocky bastard like you? Why wouldn't I like you?"

"Bitchy today, huh?"

"I really don't like you, Twelve."

"Feeling's mutual, Princess."

"Take your hand off my leg."

"No, I think I'll leave it here to annoy you." He gave her a flash of a smile, and turned away, leaving her fingers gentle on her knee. "Mr Ario, what a fine suit you have on. That badge reminds me exactly of a story in District Twelve."

* * *

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clato4ever7-Thank you! Your reviews are always so nice, you're class!


	4. Fire

It was at least half one when Clove was allowed to leave. Tired and VERY agitated, she ripped Gale's hand off her knee and stomped up and away once she had gotten the go ahead. Most of the Capitol officials had left, along with most of the tributes, and Clove was fairly confident of her standing in their milky old eyes. She had charmed the bejesus out of them; and for half of the time spent there Gale had been stonily silent, due to her tactic of ignoring him, but after leaving his hand's place on her leg and their irritated conversation, it was like the friendly God himself had touched him. He was open and sparkled with cheerfulness and confidence, and they kept a light and cheeky banter with one another which of course captured everyone's delight at the easy nature between the two. Little did they know there was an electrical storm brewing between those calm not-quite-insults.

She thought if she found out he was the infuriating douchebag that he was, it would be the boost that she needed to get her head back into the game, get her focused into training and not dreaming about frivolous things like love when she might be facing her death in a matter of days, but it didn't. It made him insanely more attractive, so much more so that she literally wanted to attack him over the table with all those important Capitol people watching, and kiss him.

It was messed up.

The elevator clunked open, ending Clove's philosophical thoughts. Shuffling out, her head all in a tumble of thoughts she couldn't explain, she stuck the small silver key into the special lock that their escort had requested, and strolled in, slamming the door behind her. She didn't expect her guardians to be back; normal Capitol parties raged on until at least three or four in the morning, but she knew Cato would be in, he'd been released before her. She kind of just felt like curling up and watching a film like they sometimes did, not having to deal with her muddle of thoughts and just sit there mindlessly.

"Cato? You in?" She called out tiredly, rubbing her eyes and sighing.

Then something white and shiny by the door caught her eye as she turned to look.

A pair of perfect white heels, with spiralling pieces of ribbon like a dove's feathers.

Shoes that would match a white dovetail dress.

And who wore a dovetail dress?

She should've known he'd only be in it with her for sex, but come on, she was thirteen. She couldn't believe Cato. She'd have to wait for home to "finish" so she could confront him.

Another person she guessed she couldn't trust.

He knew that was wrong. She told him it was wrong to do THAT with her. He'd promised he wouldn't, not until she was older, if they survived. She knew they wouldn't; only one comes out, right? She knew that Gale and her wouldn't be able to survive if they did, and that's why loving him felt so surreal, like these games weren't really coming. It was terrifying, because she didn't know if she could even concentrate on the training. And no training meant no

survival.

She collapsed on one of the tasteful black and scarlet couches and switched on the white marble fire grate, resulting in a warm and cushy blaze.

* * *

It was around half three when Cato eventually creeped out, smiling to himself, wearing a pair of boxers. Clove was in the half-awake, half-asleep world where everything was blurred, so he startled her awake as he crept over to the small avox call station.

"Cato?"

"Jesus!" He yelled out, jumping up and almost falling over. "Oh, it's just you, Clove. What's up? Just came out for a glass of water."

He pressed the button hard and turned round to face her.

"Hey, you okay? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Oh, nothing." She whispered, standing up and shuffling over to him, changed out of her beautiful gown into a set of lace pyjamas. "Just that you fucked a thirteen year old girl. When you said you wouldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

"Leah. I know her shoes. You promised me, Cato! You know how wrong it is, right? She's thirteen!"

"She's not thirteen." He mumbled, looking down.

"What? She's obviously thirteen."

"No. People just keep thinking she is. She's fifteen. She's just short, like you."

"Course she's fifteen. You wouldn't just say that to cover your back."

"Jesus, Clove!" He sighed, pushing back a wayward blonde strand of hair back from his mesmerising eyes. "Look, I'll show you." Crashing onto a sofa, he clicked on the TV to reveal a late-night talk show. Ignoring that, Cato flicked through a couple of channels until he found the one he wanted to- a24/7list of the tributes and their statistics. "Look, right there. Leah Cerulean."

Clove's eyes scanned the black screen with the cyber yellow font.

Leah Cerulean, female, age 15, blue eyes, ginger hair, 5 ft 3.

"You weren't lying."

"I wouldn't do that with a thirteen year old, Clove."

"Good. Pretty cosy, though for one night of knowing each other."

"I don't know what to say, Clove." He switched off the TV, and turned to face her. The room was full of that mustythree amair, and the movements of the two were slow and almost like they were drunk. Light was dark blue-ish and weak, casting thin, lighter shadows around them, so it was like they were underwater. She drew up her legs onto the cushy softness and crossed them, listening to what he needed to say. "We talked all night, and I know that I'm not going to get sponsors, because I practically ignored them all. I've never fell for someone like this Clove; she's just amazing, and it scares me! She's so beautiful, and so, so funny. More funny than my friends, apart from you, like she's not afraid to say what she thinks which is so new to me from a girl that I like. It's terrifying." He hangs his head, and tears begin to leak out of his eyes, and he roughly pushed his hands against them, like a little boy. "I've never felt like this, it's scary and new and strangely amazing. And it doesn't feel like I've come here for the reason I've come here, because instead of blood and victory, it seems my world revolves around her. And I know it's crazy and strange because I've only just met her, but-however cliche this sounds- its like I've known her forever. And she says she feels the same. And I actually feel like I'd put her in front of myself in the arena, like I'd do anything for her not to die. It's awful, but I love it at the same time. And I just wish we weren't going now, because I know we aren't going to make it out. But, I think I love her Clove." His voice broke with tears at the end. Clove slowly placed her hand on his, at loss of words to comfort him. He glanced up at her, and they began to edge closer. Maybe it was the affect of tiredness, or just because, but it didn't register what they were doing until their lips touched. But it wasn't right.

It felt WRONG.

Pulling back quickly, they stared at each other in shock.

"We definitely are better as friends." Clove whispered. "None of that again. That was just weird."

"I know right?" He laughed.

"I'm going to bed now. Night." She smiled and raised up from her place. "Oh, and by the way, you better make Leah leave before Gale finds out. He is really protective of her."

* * *

Training was exhausting, but it was fun to antagonise Clove almost by the minute. Gale stole her spear and threw it perfectly, striking it in the bullseye that she had been trying-and failing-valiantly to hit. When she was practising knots, he pulled them free. When she was identifying plants, he got up behind her and pressed all the wrong buttons. It was so amazing, knowing that she knew he existed. It was funny too, and even she had to stifle a giggle before venting out her anger at the knife station. It was horrifying but weirdly attractive, watching her cause death by exsanguination to five dummies in a matter of minutes.

"Hey, Leah." He directed at the girl who was facing the buttons in the elevator.

"HOLY... Oh it's you, Gale, you scared the bejesus out of me!"

He laughed.

"So how's the young'un then?"

"I AM FIFTEEN!"

"Fifteen?"

"Yes! Why does everyone think I'm so young?"

"Guess it's the baby face."

"Hey, Gale?"

"Yeah?" The elevator began its ascent.

"Are you scared?"

"Scared?"

"Everyone seems so funny and happy and content, like the arena isn't even coming soon. And I don't think I could ever kill any of these kids that are so nice and relaxed. And it feels so weird to know that in a couple of days I'm going to be seeing a side to these people- a monstrous side. I'm scared."

He thought about what she was saying. He really was scared- more than he consciously realised.

But it seemed he wasn't scared for himself. He was scared-as weird and jumped-up as it was- for her. Clove.

"I am scared, Leah. Very scared."

It was silent for a while, till they passed the eleventh floor.

"You hear about the mixer tonight?"

"Mixer? What? Not another dinner?" He groaned.

"Nope. A mixer for the tributes to get to know each other.

"Just brilliant."

* * *

"We don't have to go?" Clove asked, incredulously, glaring at their escort. They were on the bottom floor, just stepping out of the lift when they had the news.

"Not if you don't want to, dear."

"So I got dressed up for something I didn't want to go to? I hate this!" She whispered to herself. "I'm not going to gotonight, sorry Esmerelda. I'm not feeling well."

"Thats fine, sweetie. Do you know where Cato is?"

"Nope, sorry."

Esmerelda swept out, and Clove repeatedly pressed the call button till she watched the golden light signifying the elevator was making its way down.

"So, you just found out that we didn't have to go either?" A warm, chocolatey voice asked her from around the corner, followed by a slick Gale, looking delicious in general, normal clothes. He had dark jeans on, with a dark red and navy checked shirt on, slightly undone to reveal a white t-shirt, left untucked. Clove was wearing a navy silk dress with sleeves down to the forearm and a sweet petticoat. It was cosy and wintery and with their colour schemes, they looked like a perfect model couple.

"What do you want?" She snapped.

"Clove, can we just try and be friends?"

They both stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button to their respective floors, before turning to face each other.

"Well you don't act like you want to be friends!"

Don't ask how by the time the elevator reached the second floor they were screaming at each other, but they were.

"Ahhh! Why are you SO infuriating?!" Gale yelled, one hand on his forehead.

"Possibly because you're a bastard?" Clove screamed back, tumbling back out into the District 2 corridor. They were so involved in the argument that they didn't even notice that he followed her out, shouting and yelling at each other.

"Why do you act like I hate you when you know perfectly well that I l-" Clove stopped short when she realised she said, and resorted to just staring at him with those apple green eyes of hers.

"That you what?" Gale asked, smoky eyes boring right back into hers.

She didn't reply, instead shuffled back into the wall.

"That you what, Clove?" He asked, edging closer and closer to her until his body was almost pressed against hers. She ducked her head and mumbled an answer, a crimson hue of less embarrassment and more curious guilt lighting her cheeks.

"What?" He asked, cocking his head as if to hear her better. He lowered his head so their noses were just-just touching.

"That I like you." She whispered, glaring at her shoes.

He lightly tilted up her chin for her to look at him, until two pairs of fiery eyes stared into each other, his fingers like a flame on her skin, making her skin spark with unidentifiable happiness. For a moment it was just the heat of that almost embrace, the minute of dropping a lit match to the floor, the calm before the flames rule over the surface where your feet stand. Then, the blaze engulfed them both, and his lips meet hers in an incredible explosion. It quickly deepened and his tongue invaded her mouth. Her teeth grazed his lip and he melted into her until they are no longer bodies, just a blinding expanse of light that shouldn't be in a grey hallway, should be in a sky or a forest or somewhere free, each a cluster of sparks and flames that are two living beings of love. Soon her back and shoulder blades are pressed against the wall and her legs are wrapped around his waist as they stutter and breathe into each other. Passion and fumbles, too hot to see or slow down.

"Well, this is awkwaaaard." A sarcastic-and a bit frightened- voice snapped them out of their daze. Her legs slipped from around his middle, but his arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer, missing her touch, craving as much of her skin as possible.

They turned her face to see Cato and Leah, hands entwined, coming out of the elevator. Leah was trying not to smile, but you could almost see visible smoke pouring out of Cato's

nostrils.

"What the FUCK are you doing with Clove?"

"What the FUCK are YOU doing with Leah?" Gale shouted, his arms slackening from her as he registered the situation. She whined quietly and he found himself smirking as he tightened his arms again.

"Come on, Cato. We'll discuss this with them later."

"But Lea-"

"Don't but Leah me, move it. We'll go watch a movie on my floor instead." When he didn't budge, she put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes "I SAID, move it." She hissed, and Cato grinned slightly and stepped back in.

Once the elevator closed and they were alone again, the atmosphere had changed. They awkwardly untangled themselves and sort of stood there limply, just looking at each other.

"Well," Gale started, rubbing the top of his arm awkwardly. "I'll speak to you tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded sadly.

"Goodnight." He told her, before leaning down and planting a soft kiss on her lips. It was meant to be small, not important, but when neither of them pulled away, it became more intense, deepening brightly. It wasn't as intense as reckless as before, calmer, but more eternal, like a slowly burning candle that lit them both up like beacons, brighter but less blinding, more important, less fumbling.

Soon, the door had been opened and they slowly stumbled in, not breaking the seal between their lips, until they crashed into Clove's bedroom, the door swinging shut behind them. The kiss was broken, and the darkness was illuminated by the burning inside of them, as she stumbled, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling off his white t-shirt to reveal his smooth, fluid muscles and tan skin. He slowly unzipped her dress, each craving the constant touch of the others skin. Once she was only in her crimson underwear, their lips met again and they fell back onto the messy bed, him wriggling out of his jeans as he supported himself on his elbow with one arm, so not to crush her.

"Stop." He gasped, breaking the flame.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I don't want to do it like this, only because of the threat of the arena hanging over us, only because we're scared. I want to do it somewhere special, where we want to do it, only because we love each other."

"Where are we going to do that, Gale? The arena is soon. Only one of us comes out. There's no chance otherwise. And, I know it sounds stupid but... but," she breathed in. "I already think I love you."

"I love you too, Clove." He smiled down at her. "But just trust me on this."

"Okay." She sighed. "But I don't want you to leave."

"Can't I just stay here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sleep here, with you."

She responded by pulling him down next to her. He chuckled, and wound his arms around her, pulling her back against his abdomen. He placed soft kisses along her neck, soliciting a moan from her.

"Stop, I want you so much already."

She giggled softly, before they fell asleep together, breathing in the others scent, revelling in each other's incredible heat, together in the darkness."

* * *

clato4ever7- You're so funny, you really make my day! Thank you! What do you think of this chapter?

UnseenWonders- I added more Leah, Chicken Pie :3

Can I have ten reviews if that's not too much to ask? Thanks!


	5. The Scorpion Tattoo and An Opal Bracelet

Okay, I have some biiiig apologie to make.. I'm so sorry for not updating straight away, I've been sick and then really busy with school so, but at least I'm getting it done now!

* * *

Clove was awoken by hot breath on her shoulder, a hand's fingers tapping unknown codes on her hip in a sleep deluded dream. Thick green eyes shooting open, her hands reached out to grab something to hit this mystery person, but when she heard a soft moan, last nights incredible, insane events came flooding back to her. His lips pressed against hers in a harsh, bruising kiss, hands exploring over each others bodies, shining amounts of everything amplified through her closed eyes, like a world renewed. She remembered him playing with her hair and winding around with the curly strands, like it lulled him, easy as a child, back to sleep.

"Clove?" He asked, grey eyes frightened and child-like in his face, his skin warm and inviting in the soft sheets. She lay back down and turned to face him, a relaxed smile working its way back onto his features. He wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to draw her closer, and she laughed, pushing him away and stretching.

"We have training." She whispered, starting with a sunny tone, finishing on a dark, quiet voice, as thoughts of the unknown arena, dark and sinister and evil, the hell that once seemed like heaven to her. It was only know fully starting to grasp her- only one would come out. No more Gale, or no more Clove. It was scary how fast she had fallen for him.

"Hey," he smiled, somewhat sadly, long fingers tilting her chin upwards to look at him. "It'll be okay."

She nodded slowly, though they both didn't believe him, not really.

"You should go. My escort and mentors will kill me if they realise this is going on."

"Oh." He mumbled disappointedly, head down.

"We can meet up later, okay? I'll come find you."

He brightened up considerably, and then they set to the semi difficult task of finding and retrieving all his discarded items of clothing that were scattered around the room, as well as hers. He strutted happily around in his dark boxers, Clove's eyes and the way they fixed themselves to the six indents on his stomach and the dark scorpion tattoo that all the mine workers had, it's jet black, emerald green infused, incredibly detailed abdomen and stinger beading down tan, dusty skin into the waistband of his underwear, fuelled his he'd found his jeans, he stretched back out onto the bed.

"Don't suppose you'd care to join me here?" He grinned, eyebrow raised, reclining with one hand behind his head. His meaning was obvious, by the oh-so-blasé way he dropped his jeans to the side.

"What happened to "let's wait"?" Clove questioned sneakily, at the same time crawling along the sheets towards him and the growing eager smile on his face as he saw the dusky green eyes filled with desire snaking their way up towards him.

"Uh, um, I..." He stuttered, trying to find an answer while she reached him and promptly began to attack his jaw, kissing gently and sometimes grazing her teeth over the sensitive skin, trailing them down to the hollow in his neck. His eyes widened and she traced down further, to his chest, before he threw back his head with pleasure and a guttural moan escaped his lips.

"No, I wouldn't care to join you." She piped up, snickering like a toddler, jumping up from him and turning around to her wardrobe.

"Tease." He panted out breathlessly, glaring at her but laughing at the same time. "Fine, but if you're not going to join me, turn around."

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'll look. S'not fair." He pouted, drawing a smile from her lips.

"You, my friend, are a child."

"You love my childishness."

"I love you." She blurted out, and her hands froze in their place, as well as her pupils, dilated like a deer in headlights. Sure, they had said it last night, but it was in the heat of the moment, when they were drunk on sound and sense and the feel of each other's skin. Now it was morning and they were stone cold sober.

His breath stilled as she said it, icy in his lungs, blood slowing his reactions in his brain. His ribcage stung with the beat of his heart, like a drum in the rare music festivals District 12 held sometimes.

Three words.

So easy to say.

But packed full with senses and descriptions and blinding, flashing feelings. Promises of hugs on cold nights, consolations when faced with desolate fears, second chances and never a final goodbye.

His eyes flashed, as he prepared to brush it off cooly, with a simple thank you or some such, but something stopped him. Was it forest eyes, wild and free like the winds in the wood he hunted in? Or crimson lips, beaded with scarlet, shining like a precious garnet? Or just a flutter of a hand, pale and on the whole, insignificant when compared to her other features?

Then he realised- he actually loved her. He loved her more than anything he'd ever known, and let's face it, apart from the poverty and threat of death that hung over him, Gale had had a loving family with big hearts who treated him like a god, with hugs and smiles and scratchy drawings of "My Hero" done by Rory. That was a lot of things to love, but she still beat all of them. It was crazy, and stupid, utterly nonsensical... but it felt real. True.

"I love you too." He smiled, then shunted himself under the sheets of her bed.

"What are you doing?" She asked as he wriggled about.

"Changing." He blushed.

"Under the sheets?"

"You'll look!"

* * *

Once Gale had eventually stumbled out, holding up the back of his jeans with one hand, shirt and t-shirt left behind, stealing kisses from her and generally delaying leaving, Clove retreated into the bathroom, for what she now considered to be her first REAL day of training. Yesterday was just distraction and delicious romantic tension between her and Gale. Stepping into the shower, she stared meaninglessly at the shiny chrome buttons and switches, before plunging in with a guess and flicking about twelve different things. A sudden downpour of steamy, scented, clear water poured down, making her feel refreshed, raising goosebumps along her soft skin. Once her hair was sodden, she played around with a few more switches. Soft green bubbles came cascading out from two holes in the metal, placed near the top of the shower, about Cato's height in stature. Clove wondered about Gale, who was a bit taller than Cato, and how he would shower, how he would have to crouch down awkwardly. The thought made her smile. After managing to gather a hearty cluster of bubbles, she massaged them hard into her scalp, and washed them out, pressing another switch to find a lotion-like liquid squirt out of the holes, light mint in colour, something she knew to be conditioner. After washing out that as well, she tried to turn a shining knob that she thought would turn it off, but instead the water began to stream out a different colour, a glowing pinkish-purple, threaded with princess-y sparkles, and smelling like heaven. Standing under it, she felt her whole body refresh, like it was seeping beneath her skin and into her sleep clouded joins. Finally, once she'd had a fill of its magic, she went to turn the shower off, AGAIN, and indeed the water spitted and hissed out into non existence, but another hole appeared, near her hands, and squirted out some soft cream into her fingers, which she dubiously pulled through her hair. A neat little drawer unfolded and presented her with a glass comb, which she dragged through the tangles until the cream disappeared. She stepped out through one of the open shower sides, and into the steam fogged wet room, pulling a cashmere cream robe off the side of a towel rack, sliding it onto her still damp skin. Tying it tightly closed, she wandered out into her room, locating a dark training suit, sliding into underwear before pulling the clingy fabric on and locating a pair of simple black boots that would suffice. Stomping back into the bathroom, enjoying the feel of her new boots, the walls began to turn and suddenly warm air blew hard at her head, going on for around five minutes of wind-whipped chaos until they switched back and she was propelled to the mirror to see her hair perfectly arranged, less ringlets but more full, wavy curls that fell beautifully down past her shoulders. Ruffling them to test their resolve, she was surprised when they just softened back into the perfect waves. Happy, she danced out of her quarters and into the shared space, where Cato was nowhere to be found. Enobaria was chatting on what Clove had found out was a "cell phone", prattling on about her favourite lip-glosses, flicking her straight dark hair and such, so Clove assumed it to be a radio-in interview.

Brutus was downing a bloody mary smoothie and looking longingly at the splendid buffet that was laid out, and back down at his own perfect abs, visible through his tight clinging t-shirt. The only person actually eating was Esmerelda, who was stuffing her face with fluffy cotton candy, a bit of an odd choice for breakfast.

"Cravings." She said, glancing up to meet Clove's confused stare. She stood up, and Clove's eyes were drawn to the slightly visible bump through Esmerelda's flowing blue dress.

"Congratulations! Boy or girl?" Clove asked, interestedly.

Esmerelda couldn't believe her ears. This girl, with the fierce stare who she knew to believe her an idiot, so ferocious and cold when they first met, cared. She was happy and joyful, smiling with effervescence, almost glowing.

Esmerelda was no fool, contrary to Clove's belief; she was an early riser and had saw the boy from twelve sneaking out of her room at six in the morning, planting kiss after kiss on her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. She was happy for Clove and the colour in her cheeks, but also very aware that this romance was to be put out by the candle sniffer that was the arena, and the effects that could happen to Clove's mind if she won and he didn't.

Realising she had been staring dreamily at Clove for a minute or so, Esmerelda thought it would be best to snap out of it before Clove got suspicious.

"Boy, we think. We haven't decided on a name- its either Fisher or Stag."

"They're lovely, you say we?" Clove slid into a seat and picked out a shiny green apple. Satisfied, Esmerelda sat back down and resumed chomping on the candyfloss.

"District 10's escort, Cai

O."

They chatted for a bit, until Clove noticed the clock's declaration of it being half eight, and told Esmerelda and her not-really-listening mentors that she was going down to train, to which the escort waved and the others ignored. Taking her leave, she almost skipped to the elevators and pressed "TF" for Training Facility, and watched as the elevator shunted down, eventually stopping on "D1",where it opened to reveal a stunning Glimmer, blonde hair shining in the minimal lighting, looking pristine in the airy space-like suits.

"Hey, Clove." She smiled, stepping in quickly, and promptly leaning back against the button pad, and pressing eleven other numbers/letters.

"Oh, shit!" She exclaimed, before covering her mouth with her burst out laughing, Glimmer beginning to snort along with her.

"You know, Glimmer, you're actually alright." She gasped between the giggles they were sharing.

"What did you think, that I was some bimbo? I know we're going into the arena in a couple of days, but I still want to make friends with you. The only reason I acted like a slut with Cato was to see and then laugh at his reaction. He doesn't really attract me."

"Friends?" Clove asked, sticking out her hand.

"Friends." Glimmer agreed, taking Clove's outstretched fingers and shaking them heartily with her own.

When they finally managed to locate and enter the training room successfully, stumbling in in a fit full of giggles, they were fully acquainted. Not many others had arrived; but District 11's pair was there, along with the ginger haired girl from District 5, Marvel, Gale, and happily, Cato and a blushing Leah with his arm around his waist. He was whispering in her ear, explaining the colour in her cheeks, and Gale stood near them, an increasing scowl on his face that smoothed out when he saw Clove. The male from District 11-Clove couldn't quite remember his name- was eyeing up the weight station, while Rue was staring with a silent smile at the netted ceiling. Marvel was talking with the girl from District 5, an intense look on both their faces.

"Clove!" Gale shouted out happily, quite loudly, then looking around, embarrassed when the other tributes stared, like it wasn't him.

"Hi." She smiled, allowing him to draw her in for a quick kiss, before pulling back and glancing at a released Leah. "So, Cato, how did the "movie" go?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows, making a reference to Leah's previous statement the night before. Cato turned bright red- it should be noted, that was a rare thing- and looked down, but Leah burst out into a happy, high laugh.

"Sorry, I hate my laugh." She pulled a face. "Its just that it was a very good movie." Clove and Glimmer looked at each other, then back at her, and started to snort with laughter. It was so surreal to Clove; it seemed as though in the place where she should have been hardening into an icy, ruthless killer, she had been laughing more than at any point of her life.

Gale rolled his eyes and glared angrily at Cato, who returned it.

"So, "Gale", " Cato started, making inverted comma symbols with his hands when he mentioned the taller male, pulling a face. "What movie did you two watch?" He asked, smiling at a now brightly blushing Clove, with fury in her eyes.

"Now, now tributes! As I made my introduction yesterday, I do not need to bother you too much. Today's training session will break for lunch at one till quarter to two and finish at three thirty. You may begin." While they had been conversing, the rest of the tributes had trickled in and Atala stood on the stage, smiling at them all patronisingly. Cato growled and almost ran to the sword station, where he found a perfect specimen; polished silver with a cutlass blade, honed and sharpened to perfection. Leah rolled her eyes at his child on Christmas day expression, before joining Marvel at the spears, dainty hands closing around a silver javelin. Surprising everyone, she threw it perfectly, better than Marvel. Instead of mucking around with Gale, Clove headed straight for the knife station. For the first time she had something to lose; and she wasn't prepared to do that aforementioned thing; losing him would be hell. To survive in the arena, or more importantly, to make HIM survive in the arena, she would have to train the hell out of herself, because she had to defend them both. Or that was what she thought.

After the room had been silenced after her flurry of activity, the way all the bodies of dummies had clumped with blood loss, knives embedded in their hearts, heads or stomachs, she gave a sarcastic bow and turned to face her dumbstruck audience. Fourteen dummies lay on the floor, fake blood spat and sprayed on the wall behind. The only person who was not agape was Cato, who wore a smirk at the expertise of his fellow tribute from District 2, already completely aware of her amazing skill. Gale, who stood next to him, mouth slack with awe, gulped.

"Man," He stuttered, eyes glazing over. "Is it just me, or was that totally hot?"

"You are one crazy motherfucker, gotta give you that, Gale." Cato gave him a lopsided grin, before friendly clapping him on the shoulder. "You're alright. I like you. But, mess with or hurt Clove, I will fucking kill you, understand?"

"Same with Leah."

"Understood."

* * *

"Jesus, Gale." Clove stuttered, her mouth slack, mirroring his earlier expression.

"What? Didn't expect me to do all the work, did you?"

She surveyed the scene with absolute incredulation and the tiniest bit of respect.

Half the tributes were variously caught up in snares and traps; one kid was even hanging from a beam by what Clove would have seen from a simple piece of rope, but was obviously much more complicated.

"And that's not all I can do." He stated, leaving Clove to watch, shocked and stunned, as he simply strode over to the arrow station, only taking two steps with his long legs and rambling but oddly graceful gait, and picking up a thick bow, chrome and polished to the shimmer. Threading it with an arrow, he casually pulled it back, the muscles in his arm tautening and visible as he clung on to the string, eye squinting, grey like a hawk as powerful, magnetic irises stared down a dummy. Then he let it fly, and instead of just piercing the one dummy, with the amount of force that he put into it, it flew through the dummy and pierced a second behind.

"You are amazing, know that?"

* * *

"Clove, don't you sneak out that door." Enobaria called out, voice snide and high-pitched.

"What?" Clove spun around, venom in her voice, eyes narrowed at the highly annoying mentor. Her golden teeth shone in the stylish lighting, jet black curls and tan skin glimmering and well kept. Even though she had started to get on quite well with Esmerelda, and she'd always been okay with Brutus, but Enobaria really, really got on her nerves.

"Hey Clove." Brutus smiled, strutting in, with his fingers in the loops of his jeans. He was wearing a deep red polo shirt and his dark hair was swept back, hiding his widows peak successfully. Clove had known Brutus a while back; he was a raven. Enobaria was a serpent; the worst and most embarrassing training academy. Ravens were first, Sharks second, Scorpions third, but Serpents were just awful.

"Hi Brutus." She smiled at him.

"Do you mind? I was trying to tell her about the magazine!" Enobaria shrieked snidely.

"Oh." He screwed up his lips to the side, and rubbed his hand up and down his bicep. "Sorry."

"What interview?" Clove questioned.

"Well, you know we went to that magazine party last night?" Brutus asked, to which Clove nodded. "Well, apparently the whole Capitol is infatuated with the tributes this year. Especially District 2... And the kids from twelve, one, the male from eleven and the girl from five. So, to make sure you two still get the most sponsors, we set up a magazine interview. They're coming here for half three, so about fifteen minutes, and they're leaving at five. Avril and Dario should be here soon. D'you know where Cato is?" Clove had a pretty good idea where Cato was, but she was pretty shocked that she just HAD to do it. Like there was no option.

"I'll go find him now." She mumbled, shuffling, out and into the elevator, and pressing the number 12, leaning back against the wall and shutting her eyes. Soon, the destination had been reached, and she stepped out into the corridor, to see Cato exploring Leah's mouth with his tongue.

"Nice." She blurted out, causing Cato to leap back with his hands out, and Leah's cheeks to be filled with a rosy colour.

"Oh, um, hi, Clove." He stuttered.

"Well, this is awkward... If you don't mind me, I'm going to leave now.." Leah smiled, obviously trying to contain her giggles, before slipping through the glossy black door to her floor.

"Dude... Clove man, what are you doing?" Cato groaned, pushing a hand through his golden hair.

"We have to go, magazine interview."

"Oh shit."

* * *

"So, Clove, if you just lie down next to Cato... Put your hands either side of your cheeks, and make a pout with your lips... That's it. Cato, make a movement as if you're going to run your hand through your hair.. Perfect. Take the picture! Take the picture! Well done, that's perfect... Take it a couple of times, make sure... Yes, yes, I want a hazelnut latte.. No soy, no... Right, kids you can jump down now, it's time for your interview." The crazy, silver haired photographer fired off instructions like nobody's business, so when he finally released them, they were both grateful. They had been lying on a shiny white plastic ledge, in front of a plain white screen set up in the living room of the apartment. They had been told that the photos took the longest; the interview would only take half an hour.

Clove had her hair normally, just a bit ruffled up, and she wore effective makeup; thick black eyeliner and long mascara, and very dark purple lipstick the colour of blackberries or wine. Her dress was the same colour; dark wisps of thin, almost transparent gauze, tinted with deep purple, layered and layered over and over to create a dense fabric ball gown. The colour was amazingly contrasting with her pale skin and the bare background. Cato wore a black suit with a fresh white shirt and a purple bow tie, undone. They both looked incredible, truly the beautiful pair from two.

"Over here, if you please." One of the man's assistants twittered. Her hair was a vibrant yellow in a big beehive, and she had big pink hearts tattooed up one side of her face. She held a clipboard and was pointing them towards one of the sofas whilst holding a rapid conversation on a neon green headset. Rolling his eyes and proffering Clove his arm, which she snorted at and ignored, choosing to make her own way over to the sofa. They both plumped down, and soon enough a pretty woman with thick long eyelashes dyed ruby, and studded with garnets, and long black curls with streaks of red as well. She wore a cute, quirky outfit; a knitted yellow cardigan, a black skirt, a black vest top and purple stripy tights with green ballet flats. She was pretty, but cute pretty.

"Hi, I'm Poppet Marble. I'm going to be doing your interview." She smiled. Her voice was quite sarcastic, but friendly. "It's just a couple of questions, won't take long."

Clove nodded and smiled, as did Cato.

"So, Cato, the blonde haired, smouldering boy with the rock hard abs from District 2-"

"Please, Poppet, you flatter me."

"And Clove, our raven haired, mysterious beauty with the smoky, sexy edge. Your combined entrance in the chariot rides did indeed catch a lot of men's and lady's eyes, how did you feel about wearing such skimpy clothes?"

* * *

The questions went on for about forty five minutes, until they were allowed to leave. Being released into her own room, Avril gently smudged and sponged off her makeup and chatted with Clove, telling her what a good impression she made, etc. Once she had left, Clove grabbed a pretty red-and-white checked skirt with a billowy petticoat, some black tights, ballet pumps, a white vest top and a soft scarlet cardigan. Slipping a little bow of the matching colours in her hair, she almost tore from her room, sliding into the elevator and hurriedly pressed "D12". A thousand things were going through her mind; was he still awake (of course he's awake, Clove, it's only five thirty) did he still want to meet up, was he annoyed that she couldn't see him till then, did she look okay... It was very strange as Clove had never really cared about her appearance before, but as soon as he came into it, she was crazy about looks.

The doors slid open and she jumped, not aware that she was already on the twelfth floor. Shaking, trembling, and all together nervously, she stepped out. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying desperately not to convey her nervousness.

"You okay, Lil' Red?" Her eyes flew open to see to see Gale leaning up against the door frame to the penthouse, looking insanely attractive. He wore a pale blue and white striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, with a white t-shirt underneath and faded, hole-covered jeans and red sneakers, not to forget that wicked, slightly conceited grin.

"Uh-yeah. Hi." She said, slightly nervously, giving him a bit of a weird smile.

What was happening? She was Clove. Clove the volunteer tribute who didn't feel a thing, wasn't scared or dozy around anyone, didn't get nervous. She was meant to be a strong career; not a dopey girl that melted when a good-looking guy looked at her.

But the thing was, he wasn't just a regular good looking guy. He was kind and smart and funny, and even a bit antagonising, which was good because he matched her in cynicism, and he was a hell of a good kisser too. And not to mention he was pretty good looking.

"Clove?" He asked, waving a hand in front of her face, making her jump. "I was just saying, I know a place we can go, I mean, if you want to." He was pretty nervous and ran his hand up his bicep, in a manner of which she had recently picked up on. Maybe it was a nervous habit. Clove used to bite her nails; the academy put a stop to that.

The academy. They would be ashamed to see a cold-hearted raven acting this way.

"Yeah, let's go." She said, in a bit of a daze; too many emotions running through her mind.

He pressed the button for the elevator, and rolled out an arm as if to escort her in, mock Boeing to add to the effect. She rolled her eyes and stepped in, him following close behind. Stabbing a button mysteriously named "R", he relaxed against the wall, and although she stared intently down at at the floor, his eyes never left her.

The elevator door slid smoothly open to reveal the grey concrete of the roof.

Clove's questioning looks we're answered when she stepped out to see the beautiful sunset and the views of the sparkling buildings, up so high. Tiny multicoloured blobs of Capitolonians strutted about down below, and the chorus of voices that came from them drifted up to a hazy, burbling haze, not dissimilar to a mosquito buzz. There was a silky, shimmery orange blanket, with jasmine scented cushions, all in various bright colours; lime green, aquamarine, magenta, etc, all with gold tassels and rims on the edges and corners.

"Sorry that they're so gaudy... They're the only ones I could find." He apologised profusely, turning red as he sort-of escorted her over.

"Gale, it's amazing." She smiled, taking an elegant seat on the silk.

They sat and talked for a while, till she was eventually lying with her head on his lap, him propping himself up on his elbow, playing with her hair. The sky had darkened to a magnificent blue, covered with an orange haze of the streetlights below, and dotted with some petulant shiny stars.

"My brother told me a story once." She said dreamily, catching his hand drifting through her curls and clasping it between her own fingers. "It was a legend told in the old days, proper ancient times. He never could remember who told it... apparently they had a specific name, the tribe that told it. It was a nice story, he used to tell me it to get to sleep."

"What was the story?" He asked, fondly, gently placing his arms around her waist, and softly pulling her up, so she was lying against his chest, both of them leaning back against a short little wall that was acting like a windbreaker for them. She was shivering, so he held her closer, gently placing a kiss on her neck.

"That every person that is ever born is tied to someone. They could go out with someone else, think they were in love with someone else; but no relationship would never last until they found that person they were bound to. Like a magnet, you would be drawn to them all the time and would almost instantly fall in love with them. They were essentially tied to your soul, and your soul was tied to theirs. Soul mates, for life."

He smiled, brushed some curls back behind her ear.

"Maybe that's true. Maybe we're a perfect example of that, Clove."

"Mm. I feel like that. And Cato and Leah; they are examples of that." She sighed. "I wish he could be here to tell you the story; he tells it so much better than I do. He used to kiss my forehead, once he was finished, and then he used to say; "One day, Clove, you'll find your soul mate. I promise." I guess he kept his promise." She smiled up at him, ran a soft hand down his cheek. "I miss my brother."

"I'm sure you'll see him again, Clove." He whispered, knowing that she probably thought he was lying, but he knew she would come out; he would do anything to make that happen, but still.

"Oh, I won't." She chuckled, but there was no humour in it. It came out bitter and flat. "This is him." She gently unclasped the locket and opened it. He peered inside to see a younger Clove with a gap in her teeth and the same freckles that she had now, next to a boy who looked a lot like her, except he had lighter brown hair, streaked with gold and sandy blonde, and slightly tanner skin. But he still had the same insanely green eyes, the same high cheekbones and the same sparkling smile. Clove looked a lot happier there, so much more alive; she looked a lot more normal, a lot more like a regular child with dreams and a big toothy grin. Now, she was cold and aloof and irregularly beautiful, and he wondered what made her change. Somehow, he recognised the boy.

"Hey, I've seen him before."

"He's a victor. He won the sixty eighth hunger games. Alexander Shadow. He was famous because he only killed one person; the District One alpha male that killed a twelve year old. And even then, he apologise to him. He was the best person I knew, ever."

"Why won't you see him again."

"He's dead. M-my father.. k-killed him." She stifled a sob, and he held her closer. He could tell she wasn't ready to talk about it, so he tried to distract her.

"Well, in District 12, we believe in something like that. Whenever you find that one person, the one you want to spend your life with, you will now. It's like your soul is set alight with passion and love, and you just know. And you have to mark her, let people know she's yours. Every boy that is born in the Seam- the place I live in in District 12, is given this," He unfastened something from his wrist. It was a brown leather strip, studded with a red jewel, a harsh rock covered in spiralling black lines, like a stone forged in lava. "Well, actually, two of these. The colour of the jewel depends on what spirit the blesser decrees you to be. The blesser does what the name declares- blesses each baby. Turquoise is water, opal is air, emerald is earth, and Firestone is, you guessed it, fire. I was born with fire- a short temper and great power, as well as a lot of passion and love, and a loyal heart. The blesser goes into a room with the baby for an hour, and decides who and what spirit the person they marry will be. I know, I know, it's dumb," He said to Clove's incredulous stare. "But The Seam is pretty big on tradition. And this only happens to the boys, bear in mind. I was set as fire, and my blesser, a woman my mother and I know, Greasy Sae," he chuckled a bit, remembering the quirks of the crazy but sweet woman. "And, the other bracelet is to be given to that one person." He began to fiddle with his wrist.

"What are you doing?" Clove asked, staring at him, half in, half out of sleep, lulled by his deep, lilting voice and the sweet story.

"Here. Hold out your wrist." She complied, offering him her right arm. It felt wrong to hold out her left arm- the darkness of the ravens and their meaning too evil to compare to this beautiful, burning happiness. She could see where this was going.

"There." He fastened another little leather bracelet around her wrist. "You're my one." She responded with a deep, meaningful kiss that left both of them slightly reeling and wanting more.

"What does opal mean again?"

"Air. You're wise and kind, but merciless to your enemies, and you hold a great deal of both love and power. Really, they suit you perfectly. Sae was right, even if this whole thing is kind of dumb." He sighed before smiling weakly as she settled into him.

"I don't think it's dumb, I think it's nice." She whispered, tilting up her head to kiss him, both together in the encroaching night.

* * *

UnseenWonders- Thanks Leah

clato4ever7- I can imagine that would be so awkward! I know, that is a bit of a weird place to make out! Do you like it so far?

RadMalfoyCookie-Aww thanks! I love new reviewers, and it really makes my day when I get reviews like this! Thank you!

meee-Thanks! I really hope you are! How do you like this chapter!

kkgirll- Oh my god thanks! I love reviews like this :)

catoandclove4eva- aww thanks, I really like this pairing, do you like this chapter?

Can I have 15 reviews guys? And again, sorry for the delay!


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